


Unknown

by Cas_Wings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1970s, Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cas_Wings/pseuds/Cas_Wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Castiel places a flower in Dean's rifle barrel at an anti-war protest in 1970, he doesn't think much of it. That is, until he sees something in Dean he never would have expected, something he wishes to see again. Will he find the other man, or will Dean be lost from him forever? ((1970's AU. Based on the Kent University Massacre that occurred on May 4th, 1970.))</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unknown

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short little ficlet I got inspired to do while studying this historical event. Hope you all enjoy, and thank you so much for the support! (Also, If you'd like to check out my tumblr, I'm at cas-wings.tumblr.com :) )

Castiel's heart was pounding as he made his way forward through the crowd, a single daisy clutched in his trembling fingers. This was the first protest he had ever participated in, and while he believed in the cause of peace with everything he was, the sight of Military Police remained daunting. But, nonetheless, he followed the actions of other brave, willing souls around him, and found his way to the front of the group. Eyes downcast in fear for a moment as he gathered his errant nerves, his gaze lingered on the unsettling sight of black, shiny boots, which were only slightly scuffed at the edge. Taking a deep breath, Castiel lifted his blue eyes to look boldly in the face of the soldier. Even behind the plastic riot mask the man wore, he could see the green eyes that lay beyond. They looked vapid and emotionless, nearly downright hateful, Castiel thought sadly. That is, until their green focused in on his blue and softened for half a moment. Finally finding his nerve at the nearly imperceptible look that had been trained on him, Castiel gave the unknown officer a light, albeit shaky smile to show his pure intention and raised the flower.

Dean watched, intrigued, as the blue-eyed man raised a trembling daisy to the barrel of his rifle, leaving his fingers to pause on the plant. Curious as to why the other man didn't move away as all the other protesters did as soon as the flower placement was complete, the Winchester raised his gaze once more to look into the man's face before him. Again, he was caught off guard by the strikingly soft, almost sad look in the blue eyes as they met his, and felt himself soften for another moment. Soften, until he remembered what his post was, and once again put on an emotionless mask behind his plastic one.

Castiel didn't utter a word during the whole interaction, and after what felt like hours, after his heart began to beat erratically for a completely different reason than that of fear, turned away, walking off into the crowd.

Dean watched the unknown man disappear into the crowd, and for the first time, didn't remove the flower from his barrel to crush it under his boot. No, this time, he left the daisy to rest askew in his gun, as if the soft plant could somehow explain  _why_.  _Why_ , out of all the times protesters approached him, had his heart surged at this particular man's smile.  _Why_ , out of every flower in his barrel, out of every protester in the crowd, he had felt no hate, not even annoyance, for the blue-eyed man that had just demonstrated in front of him.  _Why_ , in a crowd of thousands, did Dean's eyes search for half a second in hope to catch a glimpse of dark, disheveled hair among the others.

* * *

Castiel had gone to other protests after the one with the green-eyed officer, but through all of them, he never forgot the second of soft compassion he had seen in that man's eyes. In fact, it was that look that fueled his passion in the next few demonstrations, to show his fellow protesters not all officers were bad people. Although unsuccessful in his persuasion, Castiel still knew in his heart the truth of his words, and every night remembered those soft green eyes.

Dean, too, had not yet forgotten the blue-eyed man. In fact, at each protest he was ordered to stand at in the following months, he always caught himself searching the crowd with a shameful hope he would encounter the other once more. Of course, his wish was never fulfilled, and it would have been silly to think it would've been. But, even this logic didn't stop the Winchester from hoping.

Hope, both men knew, was a strange thing. For at each protest they participated at, they found themselves looking for the other, some quiet spark in their chest urging their wasteful actions. Hope fueled every scan of their eyes against crowds, hope let them dare to wish for just one last glimpse of one another, even if they were at opposite sides of the demonstration. However, with the insightful outlook on hope both men held, they never stopped to consider the opposite emotion: dread. Of course, it never dawned upon them to stop and consider it.

At least, not until May 4th, 1970.

* * *

It was a warm spring day when it happened. It would have been pleasant, to walk along the manicured grass at Kent University and simply enjoy the afternoon. Pleasant, yes. Possible, no, simply due to the fact Dean was not at the large campus for leisure. He was there on duty, and duty only, his eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of the blue-eyed man who's memory never ceased to cause him to clam up. However, instead of being met with expected disappointment at the lack of the man he had seen all those months ago, Dean was instead met with joy. For there, as if in a dream, he spotted the man, walking through the crowd in a way that paralleled the previous protest.

Castiel had spotted the green-eyed man a moment earlier, his heart stuttering in his chest in surprise at the sight he never thought he'd behold again. Yet, there the man was, large as life, standing stiffly with his gun by his side, looking just as emotionless as the first time. So, reaching into his pocket, the blue-eyed man pulled out a somehow uncrumpled daisy and clutched it between his now trembling fingers, making his way to the front of the protesters as he had months before.

Dean was met with a silent, shaky smile as the unknown man lifted his flower again to rest askew in the barrel of his gun. However, instead of walking away once more, the blue-eyed man held his gaze, silently somehow conveying his incomprehensible happiness at seeing the Winchester again. Dean, seeing this, understanding this, allowed his gaze to soften completely as he stared back at the protester, finding himself in an unspoken conversation that was more meaningful than most vocal ones he'd ever had.

Castiel stared back into the now soft, vulnerable depths of the other man's green eyes, opening his mouth in a daring move to speak. But, before he had the chance to utter a word, the crowd he was in suddenly burst into a frenzy. Confused as he was swept away from the officer he had hoped for so long to see again, the blue-eyed man looked around in panic as screams erupted from others in the crowd. At first, he saw nothing to be afraid of, until he looked back to see the officers pointing their rifles at them.

Dean, at the sudden commotion, looked around, confused as well as to what was happening. However, he didn't wonder for long, for his superior officer shouted an order to disperse the crowd by any means necessary. The rest of the men, like Dean, chose to shoot their rifles into the ground or the air, simply following orders to move the crowd out of the space. Unfortunately, and much to Dean's personal horror, this was not how every man holding a rifle perceived the orders. Instead of shooting to avoid injuring the peaceful protesters, a few men began to shoot into the crowd. Eyes widening in shock, the Winchester stopped his own firing to look into the crowd in a decision that would haunt him for the rest of his days. For in the distance before him, he saw the blue-eyed man, feet stuck in the grass in panic and fear. Across the chaos, Dean's eyes met the other man's for but a moment, a moment he would never forget, a moment in which time seemed to freeze and everything else seemed to fall away. That is, until the blue-eyed man fell away from his gaze, brought to his knees by a bullet in his chest. Inexplicable panic flooding through him, Dean rushed forward, dropping his rifle and ripping off his helmet in the process.

"No." He gasped, kneeling by the blue-eyed man's side, unable to think of anything else to say in the odd connection between them that had developed from a mere gaze months before.

Castiel, woozy from the pain and rapid blood loss, looked up to see the green eyes he had dreamed so long about, no longer concealed by the plastic helmet. "Hello." He managed, smiling shakily, his expression trembling now for a completely different reason.

Dean, knowing this man was quickly dying, wracked his brain for anything to say. Thousands of apologies ran through his mind, thousands of explanations, and yet, there was only one this he could think to say. "I never did catch your name."

"Castiel." The blue-eyed man choked out, meeting Dean's gaze that somehow still caused his slowing heart to race.

"Castiel, I'm Dean." The Winchester replied over a lump in his throat born of half-panic and half-grief he would never be able to explain.

Castiel, no longer able to talk as his vision blurred, nodded, reaching into his pocket with his last bit of strength. One last act of kindness, for this misunderstood officer, his oxygen deprived brain supplied as his shaking fingers pressed a now crumpled daisy into Dean's palm.

Dean looked down in surprise at a sudden press of something into his hand, almost breaking down at the symbolic sight. There, pressed into the slightly dirty center of his palm, laid a daisy, askew as it had been in his rifle. Looking up to utter some sort of thanks, the Winchester watched in sheer horror as Castiel's blue eyes lost their life.

"Castiel?" Dean asked, soft panic in his questioning tone despite what he knew to now be fact: the blue-eyed man was gone, leaving behind only a singular daisy, which was now clutched in the Winchester's fingers as if it was the answer to life itself.

After that day, Dean never did drop the flower, and never did pick back up his rifle. Instead, the weapon lay on the grass at Kent University, burnt daisy petals sticking to its barrel as it waited to be collected. Waited, just as Dean had waited for Castiel, as Castiel had waited for Dean: unknown.


End file.
